Title: Not Without Me Author: Monie, laugiana@yahoo.se Pairing: Sam/Frodo Rating: NC-17 Summary: Frodo and Gollum are growing closer. Sam is jealous Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters used in this story and I don’t make any money off of them. Authors Note: I only have two things to say here. Firstly, English is not my first language – so please, be gentle. Secondly. I would like to dedicate this to my beta-reader - LeLe. The most enthusiastic, positive and encouraging person I’ve ever encountered. Without her this story wouldn’t have been. Thank you. It’s been four weeks since Gollum joined our party, and I feel adrift. Frodo barely speaks to me, and I sense that he has taken to Gollum more than anyone should when dealing with such a foul creature. Gollum can only bring this quest harm. I can feel it. Gollum. Yes… He does not like me here. Not only do I protect both Frodo and the Ring, but also Frodo is his Master now. Not mine. With Gollum serving him as eagerly as he does, I am hardly needed. I would leave, but I know the Ring would fall to evil if I did. Frodo is weakened, and Sauron and his minions are calling him, tempting him. Yes, I would leave, but I would have nothing to return to. And I love him. With an ache in my heart and a ripping feeling in my chest, I love him. I wish Gollum were not here. Then I could hold Frodo in my arms at night and anchor him to his humanity and innocence. I know he dreams at night. Dreams of Sauron and his words; he does not sleep as he did before, his chest heaving against mine. Now he rests uneasily and often wakes with a cry, but when I try to hold him, Gollum is there batting away my hands from his Master. He has changed so much, my Mr Frodo. Lost himself. He’s not smiling and laughing anymore. Before Gollum he would lie next to me propped up on an elbow, tracing my features with delicate fingertips, caressing my hair with a soft palm, bathing my neck with his warm breath. All the while, he would sing and tell me stories. I miss him so much. This train of thought has stirred aching memories in me. I remember his soft lips on my skin, his teeth nibbling at my nipples, his hands sliding over my chest, legs… The memories have caused a rise in my breeches and I shift uncomfortably. Frodo and Gollum are sitting some feet away from me, heads close together. Gollum is telling him stories, I wager. If I had a say I would not let him sit so close to the Ring. Though no one heeds my wishes here. Watching Frodo has me slipping back into my memories and I rise higher in my breeches as I remember his tongue lapping at my weeping member, or his frantic kisses as he grips my buttocks and presses me to his hips. I stand up and walk away from our camp, though not further than a shout away. As soon as I am out of sight my hands seek out the fastenings of my breeches and undo them hurriedly. I conjure a memory of Frodo, of gripping his member tightly and stroking him steadily, seeing his face contorted with pleasure. I grasp my own member and pump myself hard, as memories of his delectable moans ring in my head. It’s been a long time since I was touched and I am already very close to coming, my breath pushing out in short gasps. “Sam? Where did you go, Sam?” I have fallen to my knees during my act and this is how he finds me. My open breeches at my knees, my hand on myself, my member hard as the rock beneath me, my face as red as freshly fallen blood. At first he just stands on the ridge of the small hill I am hiding behind, watching me with his big, blue eyes. Then he snaps out of his reverie with a moan and scrambles down the hillside and falls to his knees behind me. I feel his trembling hands caress my buttocks and he leans forward to nuzzle my neck. I moan softly and push back against his warm body. “Why, Sam? Why alone when I am here? Do you not feel a need for me any longer?” As he speaks, his knees press between mine, his hands slide around my body, one cupping my testicles as the other pushes my hand away from myself. He takes to stroking me as my head falls back onto his shoulder with a groan. “My dear, lovely, beautiful Sam… Not alone… Not while I am here needing you so much.” He grinds his hips into my behind and sucks on my neck. I feel delirious with pleasure and turn my head, seeking his lips. Our kiss is deep and passionate and my hand flies to the back of his head, pulling him deeper. I am so close now that my hips are jerking frantically, his name spilling over and over from my lips. “Yes, Sam… I’m right here, love. You’re so beautiful when you come. Dear Sam… I love you.” I come then, choking on a sob and arching into his hand one last time. Panting I rest my head on his shoulder while he whispers nonsense in my ear. At length I stir and lift my head to look down at his hands, still holding my member. His soft hands are white with my semen and I slowly start to cry at the sight. It is so beautiful, so erotic, and we should not have to experience this in the cold solitude that is the path to Mordor. Our greatest concern, as we gasp our way back to coherence, should be not of Orcs slaying us, but of what my Gaffer would say if he found us like this in the garden. We should be in the Shire, standing like this, with smiles on our lips. Not cold tears on my cheeks, dripping onto your hands. “Sam…” You wipe your hands on your shirt and refasten my breeches before you turn me in your arms and cradle me to your chest. “I want to go home.” I feel you choking back a sob at my words and grip me tighter, as if afraid I will leave you. Then you sing for me.